


fall through

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Canadian Shack, Double Vaginal Penetration, Multi, Overhearing Sex, Pregnancy, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: Ryan unlocks his phone, sliding it across the table so Shane can read the messages from Byron, timestamped twenty minutes earlier.“Sorry man, our flights are grounded because of some freak storm. Waiting to see if we can get one out tomorrow,” Shane reads aloud, and Sara pouts down at the screen. “Fuck. Sorry, Ryan,” he says, and Sara echoes the sentiment quietly, sipping from her own mug. He can smell her ginger tea from here. He clears his throat and can taste it on the back of his tongue.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej/Sara Rubin, Shane Madej/Sara Rubin
Comments: 32
Kudos: 144





	fall through

**Author's Note:**

> Suspension of disbelief, folks.
> 
> I was writing this for the rarebuzzhips holiday event back in December and then the Depression™ took over and well, now you get it in January. Happy Shyanara Sunday.
> 
> All my knowledge of pregnancy comes from friends, family, and the internet so uhhh. Idk take any info with a grain of salt.

Ryan opens the cabin door on a Thursday morning and frowns deeply at the twenty-something inches of snow that have accumulated around his rental car overnight.

“Shit,” he hisses and, when a gust of icy wind hits him, stumbles back, pulling his blanket around him tighter and closing the door to keep in the heat. Behind him, he can hear stirrings in the bedroom, followed by dragging footsteps and Sara’s sleepy yawn as she steps out into the cabin’s main room.

“Mornin’ Ry,” she says quietly, and he looks over his shoulder at her, the disarray of her hair, the way she rubs her belly under her sleep shirt. She has no qualms about walking out in front of him in her underwear, legs bare and smooth, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“Morning,” he replies hoarsely, as she shuffles into the bathroom, but he’s not sure she hears him as she clicks the door shut behind her, “I think there’s a problem.”

.

“Holy Moly,” is what Shane says, when he peers out the window. “Looks like you’re stuck with us for a while.”

“The roads are probably fine,” Ryan hedges, grimacing gratefully as Sara sets a cup of coffee down for him.

“Have you ever driven in the snow?” She asks him, concerned.

“No,” Ryan replies, “But.”

“It looks bad, bud. Maybe you should hang on here, at least until your friends fly into Calgary,” Shane takes the seat opposite him at the table for two, and Sara slides into his lap like it’s a reflex. Ryan sighs quietly and unlocks his phone, sliding it across the table so Shane can read the messages from Byron, timestamped twenty minutes earlier.

“Sorry man, our flights are grounded because of some freak storm. Waiting to see if we can get one out tomorrow,” Shane reads aloud, and Sara pouts down at the screen. “Fuck. Sorry, Ryan,” he says, and Sara echoes the sentiment quietly, sipping from her own mug. He can smell her ginger tea from here. He clears his throat and can taste it on the back of his tongue.

“I’ll probably still head back to the resort. It might actually be nice to have the room to myself, y’know? And I can just spa and chill.”

Sara’s brow furrows. “Ryan, I _really_ don’t think you should drive today. Even if you dug the jeep out of the snow, what happens if you get in an accident out there?”

The roads up to the cabin had been tricky yesterday, but nothing Ryan couldn’t handle. He has to admit, thinking about those roads under two feet of snow, slush, black ice... It makes him want to shudder, not just from the temperature.

“This is— this is your weekend, I can’t stay here,” he says, weakly, and Shane shakes his head. He has his arms around Sara’s waist, one hand idly stroking her bump. It’s still small, she’s barely halfway through the pregnancy, Ryan has her late-April due date marked in his google calendar, as though he could forget.

“Forget that, Ryan. At least hang out here for today, we’ll keep an eye on the weather.”

“I brought all the ingredients to make that fancy pasta you like,” Sara points out. “I’ll teach you to make it.”

“Well then I don’t have an excuse to come over when you make it,” Ryan complains and then basks in Sara’s soft, tinkling laugh.

“Okay,” she chuckles. “I’ll make it and you can help and pretend you’re not learning.”

Ryan beams at her, unable to help it as she giggles into her tea. Shane, with his chin tucked into her shoulder, raises a knowing eyebrow at Ryan. He suddenly feels a little caught.

.

Just before 11pm, the wind picks up and the cabin goes dark.

“Huh,” Ryan says, and sits up in surprise. The room is still illuminated by the firelight, and the screen of Shane’s laptop as he lets Spotify run in the background. Shane stands up and wanders over to a floor vent, feeling over it with his hand.

“Well, heat’s out too,” he frowns over at Ryan in his armchair, and Sara stretched out on the couch.

“Think it’s a blown fuse, or is the power out?”

“Probably the power,” Shane grimaces, “I wouldn’t want to go outside and check anyway, not in that weather.”

Over the course of the day, they’d lazed. Cooking together, watching Netflix on Shane’s laptop, settling down to read in one another’s company. He’d been lulled into a sense of security by their calm and closeness, forgetting about the storm outside.

“If the heat’s out, you should stay in our bed tonight,” Sara says, like something straight out of a sitcom, and Ryan sees the look Shane shoots her, surprise and… a touch of annoyance? Ryan feels his stomach twist.

“Oh, no,” Ryan shakes his head, “That’s okay. I have extra stuff in the car I can bring in, don’t worry.”

“Your car, under _nth_ feet of snow?” Sara argues.

“I—” Ryan doesn’t have a good answer for this one, glances over at Shane who seems to be glaring at his own socks at this point. “I’ll be fine out here, really.”

“No,” Shane says, eventually. “No, it’s best you sleep with us. We can’t leave the fire lit out here, and Sara’s right. You’ll get cold.”

“It’s one night,” Ryan argues, “I don’t wanna take up space.”

“Have you seen the bed?” Sara asks, “It’s huge. It’ll be like a sleepover!”

Sara almost seems excited at the prospect, and when Ryan looks over to Shane, he too is starting to look a little less uptight about the prospect. Sara’s smile is infectious.

One night won’t kill him, will it?

_It might._

“I’m— fine, okay,” he sighs, and then laughs at Sara’s triumphant fist pump. She gets to her feet slowly, not _nearly_ big enough yet that her movement is really hindered, but enough that she’s starting to be careful. Standing, she extends her hand to Ryan, wiggling her fingers.

“It’s gonna be Cuddle City,” she says, and Ryan laughs as he takes her hand and lets her lead him to the bedroom.

.

There’s a chill at Ryan’s back when he wakes, and part of his consciousness registers that the blanket’s been pushed down from his shoulders. The other part feels the dip in the bed as Sara shifts next to him, and at first, he thinks she’s climbing out to get to the bathroom, but then—

“Wh— c’mon, no, he’s right there,” Shane hisses, and Ryan’s eyes snap open. Shane inhales, a soft shaky noise coupled with a sigh that can only be Sara.

“I don’t— He won’t _care_ , Shane, I need—”

Ryan closes his eyes, tries to relax his shoulders. He’s sure they can see the tension that has quickly built in his body out of nowhere. Moments ago he was sleeping, blissfully unaware. He’s suddenly aware of his leg, bent at an awkward angle from sharing the bed with two other grown adults.

“Just let me, please,” Sara begs, almost vocalizing, her voice a harsh whisper, “Please, I want it. This is what we came here for.”

“Christ, Sara,” Shane breathes, hinging on a moan. He sucks in a sharp gasp, and Ryan’s shoulder twitches involuntarily. Both of them fall silent, and Ryan forces himself to breathe like a normal human being. 

Slow. In and out. Deep.

Shane groans softly. “Okay,” he says, shakily, “That’s it.”

Sara’s moan is louder, and Ryan can almost feel Shane tensing next to him, careful, nervous. The bed shifts, and Ryan nuzzles into his pillow and breathes deeply; next to him, Sara exhales a trembling breath. He can smell her on the sheets.

“Wish you could fuck me,” Sara says, “I love it when you—”

“Stop talking,” Shane grits out, “You’ll wake him.”

“Fuck,” Sara whines, and Ryan can feel a cramp in his thigh, needs to stretch his leg out. He’s hard in his sweatpants, thinks his breath is coming a little too fast now.

“That’s it,” Shane says again, so quiet Ryan can barely hear it. Quiet enough that he _could_ sleep through it. “You can come for me, baby. Make yourself come on my cock. Good girl.”

It’s a lot to process, and Ryan feels his toes curl into the sheets, a sharp pain streaking up his leg. He has to stretch out.

“ _Fffuck_ ,” Sara sighs, _“Oh, fuck, Shane.”_

He can hear her rub herself, the wet slick noise of it. His mind swims, picturing her spread on Shane’s lap, sitting on his cock and getting herself off. Thinks about her, so desperate that she can’t help but climb onto his dick in the middle of the night, even while Ryan is right there next to them.

When she settles down on the mattress again, Sara is breathing a little heavily as she gets comfy on the sheets, pulling them back up. Ryan feels the warm line of her along his back.

“You’re ridiculous,” Shane says, soft-spoken now that he’s not afraid of being caught. “What if we’d woken him?”

Sara huffs quietly, “I think he’d _understand_ , Shane.”

Ryan, trying to parse that train of thought from Sara, finally works up the courage to stretch out his leg, groaning in both pain and relief as he does so, and there’s a little shuffle behind him. He can feel his dick, just slightly wet against the inside of his sweats.

“Ry?”

“Mmmf,” he mumbles into the pillow, says the first thing he can think of that won’t give him away, “m’I stealing the blanket? Sorry.”

“No you’re good,” Sara hushes him, and Ryan melts as he feels her hand along his back, gentle over the cotton of his t-shirt. “Go back to sleep.”

Ryan takes it as an excuse to do exactly that.

.

In the morning he decides he needs to leave. That is, until he looks out the kitchen window and sees approximately six more inches of snow than there had been the day previous.

“Shit,” he hisses, and like deja vu, Sara wanders out of the bedroom behind him, hand splayed over her little bump like instinct. She makes a beeline for the bathroom and doesn’t acknowledge him until she’s exited again. Without her glasses, she squints at him across the room, rubs one shin against her calf and shivers in the cold.

“Hey,” she says, softly. “You’re up early.”

“Was just thinking about what to make for breakfast,” Ryan answers and turns his back on her to dig around in the cabinets. He’s sure there’s something around here he can make. “What do you feel like?” he asks her. Eggs have been off the table for a few weeks now, Sara can barely stand the smell. Unfortunately, Ryan’s culinary skills and knowledge are more limited than he’d like to admit.

“Um, we brought stuff— I make cinnamon toast in the mornings. That’s been good, lately,” she answers, sounding almost shy about it.

“Oh sure,” Ryan says, relieved that it’s something he can actually make, “I’ll have to make it on the gas stove, the power’s still out.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he assures her, waving a hand over his shoulder. “Go back to bed and warm up, I can call you guys when it’s ready.” With just the stove at his disposal it might take him a little while to soften the butter, to prepare everything.

Sara lingers in the doorway for a moment, watching him, until Ryan hears the bedroom door click shut again. 

When he finally lights the burner on the stove, he’s briefly nervous that the gas might have frozen overnight, but luckily the tank must be well insulated because it lights no problem. The water is still running, so he fills a kettle for Sara’s tea and sets it on another burner.

It isn’t until he’s almost halfway through cooking that he hears it, the groan of a bedframe, the same groan the bed had made when he’d climbed out of it earlier in the morning. This time it’s more rhythmic, and Ryan’s first exhausted thought is, _god, they’re at it again_ , before he feels guilty for thinking it in the first place. He’s the intruder here. He’s the one interrupting their weekend getaway.

There’s not a lot for Ryan to do other than stand around and wait for bread to toast, and unfortunately, at least for Ryan, sex noises are incredibly hard to tune out when they’re happening less than ten feet away. He finds himself distractedly rubbing himself through his sweatpants, the same ones he slept in, and longing for a long hot shower in which to get himself off. He’s not fully hard, but there’s an ache in the pit of his stomach, a need that he doesn’t think will be trickling away any time soon.

As he’s finally plating the food to set out on the table, Shane ducks into the bathroom half-dressed and Sara emerges behind him, swamped in an overly-large sweater. It’s unbearably cute, but Ryan misses the shape of her belly, the warmth he feels when he sees her holding it.

“You look cozy,” he tells her, as he sets a plate down in front of her, with a cup of her ginger tea. Sara looks at the cup in surprise, and then up at Ryan.

“I am! Thank— Thank you for the tea.”

Ryan winks at her, and sets a place for himself and for Shane, who joins them moments later.

“Hey look at this,” Shane says, surprised as he looks down at the plate. “Looks great. Thanks, Ryan.”

“It’s the least I can do when I’m crashing your romantic weekend,” Ryan shrugs, and feels his cheeks get hot even as he says it. Shane’s face falls ever so slightly.

“Oh, Ryan, no. You’re not—”

Shane’s cut off when all of a sudden the kitchen gets bright, lights flickering on around them as the power is restored, and Sara cheers quietly, shimmying back and forth in her seat.

“Power’s back!”

“Oh hey,” Shane says, around a mouthful of bread, “That means we can watch some holiday movies later like you wanted.”

“It _means_ I can take a _bath_ ,” Sara says, excitedly, rubbing her hands together.

“And, it means the wifi is back,” Ryan points out, and reaches for his phone. The phone signal out here isn’t the best with all the trees, but the wifi isn’t half bad. As soon as he connects, messages start pouring in over iMessage. He almost doesn’t want to look at them.

“News from the gang?” Shane asks, and Ryan forces himself to actually read his messages, heart sinking.

“Yeah, they’re not flying out. They’re staying in Dallas.”

“Well, at least you’re not missing out,” Sara says, lightly, “Because it doesn’t look like you’re leaving here today at least.”

Ryan nods, and can’t bring himself to argue. Yes, of course, he wants to be with his friends, but being here with Shane and Sara leaves him feeling about as content as he’s felt in a long time — when he can manage to push aside the lingering guilt that he’s interrupting their romantic weekend. Their company soothes his soul just about as much as it agitates his brain.

After breakfast, the boys clear up the table and Sara slinks off into the bathroom to run the water for a bath. Ryan and Shane have known one another long enough now that they move around each other seamlessly. Ryan collects the dishes and Shane loads the dishwasher to turn it on while they still have power. Afterward, he pours them both a cup of coffee, and Shane settles down on the couch to watch Ryan poke the fire back to life, get some warmth into the room.

“You know,” Shane says, “You can stop feeling guilty now.”

Ryan tosses some kindling in and waits for the fire to catch. 

“I know it’s not entirely my fault I’m stuck here but it’s— I’m third-wheeling _hard,_ here.”

Shane stays quiet for a moment, inspecting his cuticles; Ryan can see him chew the inside of his lip, something he does as he searches for the right thing to say. He’s rarely one to give pause before speaking.

“How much do you know about pregnancy, Ry?” he asks, and Ryan shrugs as he sets the fireguard back in place and sits into the remaining armchair.

“Basic stuff, I guess. I’ve— I haven’t been reading books or anything,” he says. Sure, he’s been researching little bits here and there ever since Shane and Sara had told him about the baby, but he’s been trying to be at least a _little_ bit chill. (And by ‘researching’, he means googling in incognito mode so that Facebook and Twitter stop showing him babycare ads.)

“Sara’s coming up on twenty weeks now. When her morning sickness finally started to fade, her sex drive just shot right up.”

Ryan, unfortunately, makes the mistakes of inhaling his coffee directly into his lungs in surprise and gives Shane the finger when he laughs aloud.

“Cool,” Ryan croaks. “That’s. Thanks for sharing.”

Shane grins, eyes crinkling into crescents as he giggles.

“Is this too much information for you?” he asks, and Ryan wipes his mouth, shaking his head.

“No, no, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it. You can— you can tell me whatever you want.”

Shane chuckles a little bit into his own coffee, taking a long drink before continuing.

“Sara wanted to have a fun romantic weekend before the holidays when we’d have to spend time with our families, and after New Year things are gonna just snowball right into April, so now was the best time for it,” he says. “Sara’s unusually high energy right now, so we’re sorry if we’re hard to handle, hard to be around. We know you don’t want to be stuck here with us.”

“Oh, god, no,” Ryan shakes his head, stomach plummeting. “No. Shane, there’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with, honest to god.”

It feels a touch too honest, and Shane’s eyes turn to soft crescents as he peers at Ryan over the rim of his cup. Ryan knows his face well enough to see the calculation in his eyes, to know Shane’s brain is working something over.

“It’s mutual, you know,” he says eventually, “there’s no one else we’d rather be here with.”

Ryan’s suddenly too hot, too flushed to even consider choking out a reply, but judging by the way Shane smiles and averts his gaze, he doesn’t need to.

.

Sara comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy robe and looking refreshed. Shane slides over to make room for her on the couch, and Ryan climbs back into his lone armchair as they set up a movie to cast to the TV from Shane’s laptop.

Ryan forces himself to focus on the movie, if only to distract himself from his own pining. Talking to Shane had only made it clearer to Ryan that he wanted what he couldn’t have. For so long he’s been a part of Shane and Sara’s lives, and their life together, and now it feels selfish to him that he wants this too, to be involved in the pregnancy.

Unfortunately, it seems like the universe might be out to get Ryan, because halfway through the movie he sees Sara shifting uncomfortably in his peripheral, right as she makes a soft ‘oof’ noise, followed by a squeak.

“Was that—?” Shane asks.

“I think so,” Sara says, sounding mystified.

“I _felt_ that,” Shane says, incredulous, and it’s curious enough that Ryan turns his head to look over at them as Shane reaches out to pause the movie.

“Guys?” Ryan asks, finding them both staring down at Sara’s torso.

“I think the baby kicked, Ry,” Sara says, “I felt something.”

“I had my hand on her belly, I felt it— AH,” Shane cries, as Sara makes another discomforted noise.

“Oh he’s figured it out,” she says, and Ryan finds himself grinning as they all sit there in silence, eyes on Sara.

“First time it’s kicked?” Ryan asks, and Sara positively beams at him, though her eyes are watery.

“Yes,” she says, “Please ignore me if I cry, this is a very strange feeling. I think it’s moving.”

“Is this a bad time to bring up Twilight?” Shane asks, and then seals his lips together to suppress a laugh as Sara glares at him. Then they both look down at her belly again as, Ryan guesses, the baby moves or kicks again. No one breathes or moves. The fire crackles.

“Ryan, would you like to feel?” Sara asks, after a few moments, and looks over at him — if Ryan didn’t know better — hopefully.

“Oh, jeez,” he chuckles, “That’s ok, I don’t wanna be weird.”

“You obviously want to,” Sara says, and Shane looks up then, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“Yeah Ry, c’mere,” he says, and Ryan only hesitates for a moment, before unfolding himself from his chair and climbing up beside Sara. Carefully, she moves her robe aside so he can feel her through her camisole. He’s hesitant, can’t help it when both Shane and Sara are watching him lay his hand on her.

She’s still warm from her bath, he can feel the heat through the fabric of her top, but that’s about all he can feel.

“Must’ve gotten tired,” he says with a chuckle, and Sara pouts, having felt no movement either.

“Here, I felt it down lower,” Shane says, and lays his fingers over the back of Ryan’s hand, guiding him down to the side slightly, Ryan’s arm pulled across Sara’s body — still, after a few minutes of silence, all three of them practically holding their breath, nothing seems to be happening.

“Ah,” Sara says, a little sadly. “Maybe if we go back to the movie it’ll happen again later?”

“Yeah,” Shane agrees, and kisses her temple before reaching for the remote. Ryan carefully starts to extract himself, freezing in surprise when Sara lays her hand over his arm.

“No stay, you’re warm,” she commands, and Ryan sits down; he doesn’t need to be told twice. Carefully, Sara readjusts her blanket and her robe, but pulls Ryan’s arm around her, and Shane mirrors the position on the other side. This close, Ryan can smell her shampoo and body wash after her bath, and a touch of Shane’s antiperspirant, a clean and sharp scent.

He lets himself sink into Sara’s shoulder and tucks himself into her side. After a few moments, Shane’s hand slips over his own, fingers curling around his palm. 

His eyes are on the TV but all he can feel is Sara, a wall of heat along his side, and Shane’s fingers squeezing around his hand, holding on for dear life. Ryan squeezes back.

.

It doesn’t take long for that needy, desperate want to start trickling back into Ryan’s bloodstream. He’d warded it off long enough throughout the day by keeping his thoughts as light and wholesome as possible, keeping his eyes on his book or on the TV and never lingering too long on either Shane or Sara. But in the light of Shane’s admission, the true reason behind their little couple’s retreat, he gets lost thinking about Sara the night before, desperate enough just to climb into Shane’s lap while Ryan slept next to them, the noises they’d made that morning while he cooked breakfast for them in the next room.

Shane’s been nursing a second glass of white wine long enough that he’s started to drift off, and Sara laughs quietly when he begins to snore softly into her shoulder, his weight pushing her further against Ryan — who is, internally, kind of starting to panic.

“I gotta slip out,” he murmurs to her, and — spur of the moment — drops a soft kiss at the top of her head as he does so.

“O—okay,” Sara says, a little surprised, as she cranes her neck to watch him go. “You okay?”

“Yep,” Ryan calls, not too loud to avoid disturbing Shane, “Bathroom break.”

The door clicks shut, and he slides the lock into place, sighing quietly with relief. The room is still a little damp from Sara’s earlier bath, there’s condensation on the walls and the air feels humid when he leans against the sink, and slips his hand inside his sweatpants.

_Fuck_. It feels nice just to cup his hand around his cock, just to feel skin on skin. It feels like it’s been weeks since he last got off, even though he knows logically it’s only been a couple of days, but he can feel it, an insistent need pressing down inside of him, a taut pit in his belly.

He’s sure at this point he’s been at least semi-hard since breakfast, and when he pushes his pants further down his thighs, his dick seems to get on board _fairly_ quickly, starting to perk up without much attention needed. This is going to need to be somewhat quick and dirty. Five minutes he’s sure Sara will excuse him for, but any longer than that is going to be suspicious.

And, _god_ , the first stroke really feels fucking glorious, and Ryan has to bite back a moan, gripping the sink with one hand and stroking himself with the other. He’s barely started, barely even touched himself, and he’s racing towards the finish line. He doesn’t waste time, focuses on the slide of foreskin over the sensitive head, making it wetter as he leaks all over his knuckles.

It sounds like the night before, Shane and Sara next to him, trying to be quiet but failing miserably. Slick. _Dirty_. He wonders what would have happened if they’d caught him — if he’d caught them. Would they have stopped? Would Sara have even cared? He can still hear her breathless whimper, “ _he won’t care, Shane, I need—_ ”, Shane’s soft grunts as he pushes up into her heat, filling her up real nice.

“Fuck,” Ryan breathes, almost bent double, holding onto the porcelain just to keep himself upright. He _needs_ this, he’s never felt so fucking needy in his entire life, just wanting—

“Ryan?”

A gentle knock on the door. Ryan freezes and tries not to whine. He’s so close, so fucking close. He could just ignore it, so overwhelmed that he’s not even sure who’s knocking at the door.

“Are you gonna be long? I really gotta pee.” Sara, sounding so apologetic that Ryan doesn’t even know what to do with it. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in here, but it, it _can’t_ be more than five minutes. It’s gotta be two at the most.

“Just a sec,” he croaks, and feels his belly clench disappointedly, almost sickeningly. He’s not going to come, he won’t be able.

“I’m really sorry,” Sara says through the door, and Ryan pries his hand from the sink to reach over and flush the toilet. He tucks himself back into his sweatpants, angling his dick up under the waistband, and washes his hands in the sink, quickly.

God. His face is so red. He fixes his t-shirt over the still-somewhat-noticeable bulge and, as he opens the door, prays that Sara doesn’t look down.

He unlocks the door. 

Sara bustles past him without a second look.

“Sorry I really have to—” she slams the door shut, and Ryan startles for a second. Behind him, looking at him over the back of the sofa, Shane begins to chuckle.

“Is— Is she okay?” Ryan stutters, and Shane snorts softly.

“She’s fine. Probably just a combination of me lying on her, the baby kicking, and all that water she’s been drinking.”

“Okay,” Ryan says, still a little shaky, still breathless. That tightness is back in the bottom of his stomach, an ache. He swallows thickly and turns towards Shane, makes his way past him into the kitchenette.

“Any of that wine left?” he asks, and Shane blinks at him slowly.

“There’s another bottle probably. I don’t think I brought much, it was just going to be mostly me drinking it.”

Ryan finds the final bottle of wine tucked in with some of the non-perishable goods they’d brought, and pulls it out to show Shane, who smiles broadly.

“Gonna have to change your name to Wine Bergara,” he says, affecting _Wine_ just enough to rhyme with _Ryan_.

“I suddenly would like to be drunk,” Ryan says, already peeling the plastic wrap from the neck of the bottle, twisting off the cap.

“Okay,” Shane says, and Ryan doesn’t miss the hint of concern in his voice. “Everything okay?”

Ryan sets down a glass next to Shane’s on the coffee table, begins filling them both.

“Dandy,” he says, curtly.

.

Sara returns and they finish their movie together, and Shane and Ryan finish their drinks — Ryan feels himself begin to relax again. His frustration doesn’t melt away, but he somewhat comes to peace with it. If anything, Shane and Sara will go to bed soon and Ryan can stretch out on the couch to sleep and maybe finally have some time to himself.

After spending most of the day on the couch, Shane starts to groan as he extracts himself, stretching his arms behind his head as he stands up, and then extending a hand to Sara to help her up. 

After the bathroom incident, Ryan had retreated back to his lone armchair, and while Sara had shot him a funny look upon her return, she hadn’t said anything to him or called him out in any way. Since then, Ryan had watched her and Shane snuggling in his peripheral, almost on top of one another, hands beneath their shared blanket. Past Ryan wouldn’t have thought twice about this detail, but now he knows that Sara isn’t exactly afraid to get down and dirty when he’s right there next to her, and apparently Shane doesn’t have much of a problem with it either. (Even so, he’s pretty sure they’ve just been cuddling under the blanket. Doesn’t stop his imagination from running wild though.)

Sara smooths down her robe as she stands. It’s slipping open, and Ryan can see her camisole again, her tiny matching shorts. It seems like pretty light sleepwear for a cabin getaway but Ryan realizes now that she probably hadn’t intended on wearing many clothes this weekend in the first place.

“Hey,” she says softly, smiling invitingly — coyly, almost, “I know the heating is back, but you’re welcome to sleep with us again if you want. I’m sure it’ll get chilly out here anyway when you bank the fire.”

_Fuck_.

“Oh,” Ryan says, a little breathless, “For real, I’ll be fine out here, there’s blankets—”

“There’s plenty of room in the bed,” Sara reminds him “It’s a king.”

“I know,” Ryan replies, quickly, and notes Shane shifting uncomfortably behind Sara, lips pressed tight together. “I just think, um. I should maybe give you some privacy.”

Silence for a moment. Sara looks at him, bright eyes, as though plotting her next move, something sweet to entice him, something playful, like promising him the role of _littlest spoon_. He can practically hear her say it, sees the gleam in her eyes. Shane cuts through the moment, rather bluntly.

“Maybe it’s not a good time, Sara,” he says to her, quietly, as though Ryan can’t hear him over the crackling of the fire. Ironically, there’s no such thing as privacy in a cabin this small and this silent.

“When is there gonna be a better time, Shane?” Sara asks, and she doesn’t sound _angry_ , but there’s a strange edge to her voice, almost reprimanding. She doesn’t even turn to face him. “When I’m even _more_ pregnant? When we have a kid?”

“Sara,” Shane sighs, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her back against his chest. “He heard us last night.”

Ryan feels his stomach drop, no longer feeling tight and antsy but simmering with fresh anxiety.

Since when has Shane known?

“You—” Sara looks up at Shane over her shoulder, looks back at Ryan, and he sees her eyes widen ever so slightly. “Ryan?”

Ryan clears his throat, scratches at the three-day-old stubble on his jawline. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I heard you.”

After that, it seems like no one knows what to say. When Ryan can’t take the silence anymore, he plows on regardless.

“I’m not upset if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m the intruder here, and it’s hard to give you guys privacy under the circumstances. I’m just trying my best to keep out of the way.”

Sara’s expression softens, and Ryan thinks he almost reads _disappointment_ on her features before he thinks better of it. Disappointment seems unlikely, but he can’t seem to place it as anything else.

“Are— Are you upset?” He asks her.

“No, no,” she says softly, and then looks back at Shane. “Maybe. You don’t want to be here and I was thinking maybe you were _supposed_ to be here.”

_What._

“Sara, I want to be here more than anything,” Ryan croaks, and then looks up at Shane, “With both of you. Last night, I wanted...”

“So you _did_ hear us,” Sara affirms, like she wants Ryan to say it again. Like she needs it from him.

“You weren’t exactly being quiet,” Ryan replies, and Shane hides his smirk in Sara’s hair, dropping a kiss atop her head. “Can I admit something?”

“Of course,” Shane says, ragged, and Sara echoes him with a whisper, nodding eagerly.

“I wanted to help, last night,” he says, and thinks that maybe Sara stops breathing. “I would do anything to help. I want to be part of this.”

“Ryan,” Shane says, so softly. Sara’s eyes are on him, so unbearably tender.

“I want to take care of you,” he says.

Shane makes the first move, which is most surprising, crossing the room in effortless strides. Ryan’s barely on his feet when he feels Shane’s hands cup around his face and then soft, soft lips (and stubble) against his own. Sara, left on the other side of the coffee table, gasps quietly.

Ryan would be hard-pressed to admit that the softest kiss he’s ever received was bestowed upon him by one Shane Madej, his business partner, dear friend, and longtime lowkey crush — but it’s true. Shane is delicate with him in a way Ryan doesn’t expect, long fingers caressing his neck, thumbs brushing his jaw, this mouth barely touching Ryan’s and leading Ryan to press up onto his toes just to get more of him. He feels Shane smile into the kiss as he pulls away, and understands that this was what he’d needed to confirm what Ryan truly wanted.

“You’d _really_ be helping both of us out if you got your ass into that bedroom, like, right this second,” he says, and Sara snorts behind him. Ryan looks over Shane’s shoulder and finds her hiding her smile behind her hand, her eyes glittering as she looks at them. Even softer, Shane says, "We can take care of her, together." 

. 

Ryan, for all that he’s thought about this, doesn’t know where to start.

In the bedroom, Sara climbs onto the bed and slips off her robe, leaving her in the cami and shorts she’d donned after her bath. They’re a pale pink, or maybe an eggshell white, he can’t exactly tell in the warm lighting of the bedroom, but they make her skin look soft and rosy against the light cotton.

Behind him, Shane shuts the bedroom door with a soft click, and tucks his chin into Ryan’s shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” Shane asks him, and presses a kiss to the side of his neck before pulling away and moving towards Sara on the bed.

“I don’t— I don’t know where I want to start.”

Shane slides the straps of Sara’s top off of her shoulders, and her fingers knot up in the hem of his shirt, pulling until he leans back to slip it over his head.

“Then we’ll start for you,” she says, and runs her hands over Shane’s chest, down to the waist of his pants. She pushes them down, and Shane’s cock bobs free, thick and rising higher towards his belly as he gets harder. Ryan’s… impressed, to say the least, and Sara grins at him, knowingly. “And feel free to join in whenever or wherever you feel like it.”

Ryan undresses with them and tries not to melt under their eager gazes when he slips his pants off and his dick springs up, already desperately hard. Sara makes a quiet noise, both surprise and pleasure, and when Ryan looks to her he finds Shane’s hand between her thighs. His fingers are shining wet when they emerge, and he hums happily, sliding them inside again.

“She’s been like this since she got pregnant,” he explains, and Sara visibly rolls her hips against his hand, thighs flexing. “So easy, so wet. Always ready, aren’t you?”

“You’re being gross,” Sara says, her hands cupped around his face as she pulls him in for a kiss. Ryan watches Shane as he lays back on the bed, settling into the pillows as Sara climbs over his lap — it’s like they know what the other wants before they even say it. Maybe it’s just like that, when you’ve been together this long. He has a prime view from behind them, can see just how wet Sara really is as she slides down on Shane’s cock, glistening pink lips parting and spreading as Shane exhales a groan beneath her. In just moments she’s dripping down the length of him, and there’s not a single part of Ryan that doesn’t want to touch, taste, smell her.

“Can I touch you?” he asks them both, settling himself behind Sara, between Shane’s bent knees. Sara answers him so perfectly by lifting her hips back towards him as she slowly, torturously, rides Shane, and then Ryan can’t even resist anymore. He traces along the seam where they’re joined, gathering wetness on his fingertip until Sara leans forward, and he can slip his finger in next to Shane’s cock. Instantly, he feels her clenching around him, gasping quietly at the sensation. Ryan keeps his finger there as Shane holds onto Sara’s hips, pushing up into her again and again.

Ryan still feels like he’s dreaming, or like maybe this whole weekend has been a fever hallucination. But somehow he knows his brain would never be able to conjure this up, the feeling of Sara, hot and wet, Shane’s cock sliding against his fingers inside. He’s trying to be gentle, spreads his fingers to stretch her a little more. He wants— he wants a lot, and he’s not sure he can ask it of her, or Shane, just yet. He’s never felt a girl get this wet before, and it’s like a punch to the gut when he thinks about how much Sara must like this, how much she must want it.

He pulls his fingers free, and they’re slick enough that he can stroke his dick nice and easy, gathering pre-come at the tip to bring down the length, getting himself messy with it. Sara whines at the loss, looking back at him with furrowed brows, the most pitiful expression he’s ever seen on her face.

“Ryan,” she says, as Shane is reaching around like he wants to get his fingers into her to make up for the loss. “Ry, you can put it in,” she says, and Ryan can see the way she shivers as she says it, like the thought alone is too much, “You should. I want you to—”

Ryan doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s sure she can take it, he could feel how easy she was for it even with just his fingers in her. She leans forward again, opening herself up of him so that he can rub the tip of his cock right up into her, where Shane is buried as deep as the angle allows. He doesn’t push in just yet, testing the water, letting Sara relax. She’s stopped moving, carefully holding herself atop Shane, thighs trembling ever so slightly.

“I’ll take it as slow as you need,” he says, strokes his hand over Sara’s hip and Shane’s white-knuckled grip. He starts to press in, nice and slow, easier than he’d ever imagined — surprisingly, Shane makes the first noise, louder than Sara’s quiet little gasp of ‘yes’ as the head slips in.

“Ohh, fu— Ryan,” he says, strained, and Sara rubs down his chest soothingly, leans down to nuzzle his neck. Ryan wants to touch too, wishes he could get his hands on Shane, but he doesn’t want to crush Sara between them too much, careful of her belly.

“Slower, Shane?” he asks, and Sara whines again when he pulls out to start over. Shane’s breathing hard, looking wild-eyed from Sara to Ryan and back again.

“I’m absolutely not going to last when I can feel you like that,” Shane croaks, “Keep going, but— I’m just warning you, I’m gonna come.”

Ryan’s already pushing in again as Shane says ‘keep going,’ and breathier than he’s ever heard her, Sara says “as long as you come inside, so he can feel you too.”

Ryan thinks he could fall apart just hearing her say it, hearing Shane’s soft little grunt of a groan as Ryan slips inside again, Sara’s sighs and moans as he gets deeper. It’s a tight fit, but she really is _so_ wet, and he works himself inside inch by inch as far as he can go until he’s pressing his hips to the backs of her thighs just to get deeper.

“Fuck,” Sara gasps, her face buried in Shane’s chest beneath her, and Ryan’s not sure if she’s shaking or Shane is shaking them both. “Oh _fuck_ , oh my god that’s a lot.”

Ryan strokes his hand down the length of her back soothingly as he starts to pull out again, just trying to get some motion. He reaches down to feel them both, him and Shane inside of Sara, and knows there’s no way he’d be able to slip a finger in now. Sara clenches like she thinks he might try, as he starts to slide back in on his first thrust — and that’s probably what sets Shane off.

“ _Ohhh_ , fuck,” Shane exhales, hoarse and deep, and Ryan can feel him twitch as he starts to come, the hot pulse of him inside, the way his hips jerk just so slightly like he wants to slam in as deep as he can go and he’s barely holding himself back.

“Shane,” he says, as Sara cries a soft _“Oh,”_ between them, and Shane doesn’t even need to move because Ryan fucks them both through it with slow deep thrusts. If he didn’t want to make Sara come so bad he could lose it right now, slide in deep one last time and come with Shane. It’s easier to fuck her now, Shane’s cock already softening and Shane gasping out faint noises of overstimulation, dropping his hands into the sheets so he can clutch at them.

Sara reaches back to tap Ryan’s thigh, and he slows to a stop, gently pulling out as Shane slips out too. Sara, graceful despite obvious bambi-legs, climbs off of Shane and rolls next to him

“Starting to cramp,” she says, apologetically to Ryan. Next to her, Shane looks a goddamn mess, panting, dick soft and shiny wet against his thigh. Drops of come on his abdomen from Sara climbing off of him. Ryan thinks they both look gorgeous, so beyond his wildest dreams. “I can’t stay on my back too long,” she says, with that same apologetic tone. “And being on top gets tiring too quickly now.”

Ryan squeezes Shane’s knee as he moves more to Sara’s side of the bed, ready for whatever she needs.

“Wanna lie on your side?” he asks her, “I’ll get behind you, you can look at Shane.”

“I wanna see you too,” She complains, weakly, and Ryan settles in behind her pressing a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. He just wants to get inside her again.

“You can see me any time you want,” he tells her, lining up his cock so he can slide back into her, and Sara pushes back against him eagerly as he does so. Ryan curls a hand around her thigh and lifts it so he can slip his leg between hers and hold her open. In front, Shane dips his head and murmurs into Sara’s ear, something Ryan can’t quite hear but makes her moan aloud and clench around him.

“Fuck, Sara,” he says, and watches Shane’s eyes twinkle at him, excited and pleased.

“Feels good, right?” Shane says, resting his forehead against Sara’s but keeping his gaze on Ryan. “Bet you couldn’t think straight enough to appreciate it when we were both inside. I know I couldn’t.”

Ryan’s still riding the sense memory, the feeling of Shane’s cock throbbing against his as he came, and shudders hard, pulling Sara closer by the hips, cupping around the curve of her bump. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt, nothing he could have ever imagined.

Sara has her hand tucked down between her and Shane, and Ryan can feel where she’s carefully touching herself in time with his own thrusts, slow circles around her clit, dipping down to feel him sliding into her, get her fingers wetter. She clenches around him like she’s getting close.

Shane takes Ryan’s hand. “Hold her tits when you fuck her. She likes it when you’re gentle, like this.”

“Yeah,” Sara says, breathy and trembling. Everything must feel so much more intense like this, when she’s pressed tight between the two of them, both of them with their hands on her. Ryan keeps his mouth pressed to the back of her neck, muffles his moans there. He cups his hand around Sara’s breast, gently rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefingers, and gasps as she grips tight around his cock, sensitive.

“You like that?” he asks, and Sara moans, tipping her head back against Ryan’s shoulder.

“Been thinking about this ever since we got here,” she pants, suddenly muffled as Shane leans in to kiss her, hard and messy before lifting his face to Ryan and kissing him too. Shane’s hands are on Ryan’s waist, pulling him in deeper every time he pushes into Sara.

“Fuck, please tell me you’re close, Sara,” he sighs, turning his face into her hair. He can feel Shane’s breath on the side of his neck as he huffs out a laugh, the way Sara throbs around him, needy.

“I’m gonna come,” she tells them, voice tight, “Oh, god, I—”

The moment he feels her starting to come Ryan lets go too, tipping his head back to cry out. He doesn’t quite recognize the noise he makes, borne of his building desperation through the last 24 hours, finally released. He fucks her all the way through her orgasm and his own, only slowing when it starts to become too much, when Sara’s moans take on an almost tearful quality, and when Shane starts soothingly stroking Ryan’s hip and thigh.

Sara shivers in between them, still coming down, panting quietly as she curls forward into Shane’s chest.

“Wow,” Shane says quietly, just a hint of teasing to his tone, “You been saving that up, Ryan?”

Ryan huffs out a little laugh as he pulls out. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since he first heard them together, but it has felt like a million years.

“Maybe,” he says, and rolls over onto his back to stretch out.

It takes Sara a few minutes to get moving again, pulling herself into a sitting position, and then sliding carefully to the end of the bed.

“Back in a sec,” she says, and Ryan loves the way her hair sits in disarray around her face, a halo of glossy dark curls. When she steps out of the room, totally naked, Ryan can’t take his eyes off her until the moment she disappears from view.

Next to him, Shane sighs happily.

“We tired her out,” he says, but somehow manages not to sound smug about it. Shane reaches over, lets his knuckles drift down the centerline of Ryan’s torso, plucking teasingly at the sparse hair below his navel. Ryan puts his hand over Shane’s and notes the way he freezes, unsure, until the moment Ryan slips his fingers between Shane’s, interlocking.

“When you said ‘maybe it’s not a good time’ what did you mean?” Ryan asks, because he thinks he knows, but he needs to be sure.

After a moment Shane exhales and leans over to press a kiss to Ryan’s shoulder. And then he sits up, sweeping his long hair back off his face. Serious Shane, about to get down to business.

“It means we’ve wanted you here for the longest time,” he says, and Ryan recognizes Shane’s earnest face, open and vulnerable. “We should talk about it, maybe, after a nap.”

Ryan nods, satisfied, and sees Shane mirroring his tiny smile, nervous but pleased as Sara exits the bathroom outside and returns to the bedroom. She climbs back into the bed between Shane and Ryan, hand cradling her bump as she does so.

“Go clean up, you’re both disgusting,” she says, tugging at the covers to get them to move so that she can pull them up over her shoulders. “Then come back and cuddle me.”

Shane sighs again, extravagantly this time, and stretches his arms. Something in his shoulder pops, and he winces.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fall apart before my kid is even born,” he groans, and Ryan laughs, watching him get to his feet. “Want to jump in the shower with me? I can’t promise there won’t be handjobs.”

Sara raises her head at this, looking interested, as Ryan rises to his feet and stretches too.

“That was a double negative, pal. Now you _have_ to touch my dick.”

“Not if you call me ‘pal’ I don’t.”

.

No one sleeps on the couch for the rest of the weekend.


End file.
